Elden Ring: Putrefaction of Gold

The Snake and the Lion

It had been some time since Radahn was last in Leyndell. Truth, he wasn't too fond of the place. It was full of the political types, which he never had patience for. He felt more at home in Caelid, where people lived much simpler lives that were focused on farming which Leyndell residences often looked down upon. Those of Leyndell boasted of their closeness to the Marika herself and in all fairness that was true. In her public life, she was the Goddess Eternal.

But in being her stepson, Radahn was privy to a more private Marika. While the Goddess Eternal showed her strength and power among her worshippers, she preferred another title that was almost unknown to anyone who did not know her personally: the Bestower; and that was a power wielded by the farmers, not the nobility.

She instilled this trait to her son Miquella; Radahn's half-brother, whom Radahn deeply respected.

Upon hearing of his victory over the stars, Marika called Radahn back. So he traveled alone with Jerren, leaving his soldiers to continue to protect the region.

"What a foul day this is," said Jarren. He held out his hand to catch the falling rain.

On the road, he spotted the form of a hunched woman, sitting on a stool of sorts. She was barefoot and in her hand was a staff. Radahn found it odd that she was there, as though she was waiting for him. Yet she was like a mummified corpse from the days before Marika with no eyes in its sockets.

"What are you to stand here out in such bad weather?" said Radahn. "Can't you find another place to interpret the words of the fingers?"

"Ahh... come here. Let me see them. Let me see thy fingers, General Radahn," said the crone.

Radahn pulled off his glove and held out his hand for the crone to read.

"Why do you call me General Radahn? I haven't that title," said Radahn.

"Hail the Son of Radagon. Hail also the son of Marika," said the Crone.

The crone continued:

"The winged lioness joins with her mate and thus is born the genuine and generous little lion. However, not any lioness can do battle with this lion. Only the winged lioness may take up battle; trusting the wings of her speed so she will not be too much suppressed by its excessive anger, but contemplate flight if the lion should fly into passion." -Barchusen. p.504 (adapted. Fabricius 44, 48).

"How is this possible?" Radahn asked. "My mother is Rennala of the Full Moon, the last queen of Caria. And I have no betrothed."

He gave a barrage of questions, but they were all unanswered The crones say what they say and nothing more. And what they said was the shutters of the Two-Fingers.

Radahn was still looking at his hand when he returned to Jerren and Leonard.

"What was that all about?"

"I'm not sure," replied Radahn.

The... snake is the cosmic spirit which brings everything to life, which also kills everything and takes all the figures of nature. To Summarize: He is everything, and also nothing." (Roob, 331)

Rykard sat on the throne under the Erdtree with a smirk on his lips. They said anyone who sat in that seat without first the title of Lord, was doomed to be devoured and so of course with no one around, Rykard had to try it. He sat on it, stood on it, even flatuated on it. (Did even gods do that? Who knows?) Either way, it seemed either the Greater Will was not there or it was unattentive because no leviathan or other great creature came from the depths to swallow him.

He was lying out with his feet on the armrests as he thought for a moment about what the world might be like without the dogmas of the Golden Order. Ranni wouldn't be married to that golden-haired simpleton. Champions might be chosen for their actual skill instead of whether they kissed the ancient relics often enough. Miquella and Malenia might see something alleviate their curses. They did have a healthy helping of "thoughts and prayers" which worked about as well as anyone with a functional brain would expect.

"That's not your throne."

Rykard let out a startled gasp.

"Brother!"

Radahn was still a little worse than wear from his battle with the heavens. His arm was in a sling with one of his eyes blackened. He walked with a limp which was an improvement from nearly bedridden.

No one expected that a mere meteor would put up such a fight, but no one ever fought one before either.

"I would kiss you, but I wouldn't want to soil the dignity of the queen's favored champion," said Rykard.

"Come here," laughed Radahn.

The brothers embraced. When they let go, Radahn pointed to their two respected thrones to sit on.

"How is everything?" Radahn asked. "How are you?"

"You know, so many heretics, so little time," shrugged Rykard. "Then there's rumors of a few omens popping up in unexpected places. Hear of that?"

"I haven't. I don't care either."

"That's right. You're busy chasing meteors."

Radahn grinned but then the smile wiped away. He asked the obvious, "How's Ranni?

"Well... She is Ranni. And I'd stay out of her path for quite a while if I were you," said Rykard. He took Radahn's shoulder. "Come on."

"Why?" said Radahn.

"We all know that tree has ears," said Rykard.

It wasn't a secret that Marika had her eyes and ears everywhere in the palace, so it was a little silly that Rykard thought they could merely move elsewhere. Still, if it made his brother feel better, Radahn felt best to go along with it.

"I didn't do any of this to make her happy," said Radahn. "That's Godwyn's job."

"Yes. The two are quite happy. Perfect match. Now we just have to make sure Ranni never finds out Godwyn the Golden can't stop squirting his golden seed into every hole he finds."

"Careful with such rumors, Brother," warned Radahn.

"Or what? Listen, Radahn this whole thing isn't working. Marika can make us her demigod stepchildren and give us thrones before the Erdtree, but in the end, we are oil and water. Mix the two and we end up floating on the top like some scum. We had everything riding on a single trump card, and you just discarded it."

"What do you want me to do? Let those people die?"

"Release the stars, Radahn! Let the moon wax and wane in its natural order so Ranni can do what Empyreans do and succeed Marika with an order that doesn't need these ridiculous outer gods and their silly trees."

"Rykard that is a dark path to tread."

"And that's maybe what we need. I sometimes think that we've treaded in sunlight so long, that people forget shadows even exist," said Rykard.

From the rampart, Radahn could see the gazebo where Ranni and Godwyn sat. She looked upset with her arms crossed and ranting as she often did. Godwyn put his arm around her which she leaned into. Her chaperone was the half-man, half-wolf Blaidd stood some distance away to ensure that the couple had a private conversation.

"Can we at least wait and see what Father makes of this?" Radahn asked.

"Because we all know that Father thinks. He worships the Golden Order. He'd be overcome in religious fervor to see that there's not even a chance that Ranni breaks her word while Marika ascends to a higher plain, whatever that means," said Rykard.

"What's it to you, if I may ask?"

"Honestly, nothing. I'd just rather not keep brokering peace between you two. Especially, since I'm always the one who ends up with a black eye," said Rykard.

Radahn put his arm around Rykard, "No worries, brother. I'll talk to her after the assembly. Let her know that sometimes things are meant for this generation but for the next."

"Ha! Could you imagine her having a brood with that halfwit Godwyn?"

"She could have done worse. What's that I hear about you and a group of foreign dancers?"

Rykard frowned, "Rumors, brother. Rumors."